Not that she would ever forgive him, of course.
‘You are right,’ she said now. ‘I should not have spoken in that way of his lordship. Pray forget I said anything, Elsie.’
The maid chuckled. ‘Lord, miss, I’ve been with you long enough to know you don’t mean the things you say when you’re in a taking. I have to confess it don’t happen so much nowadays, but when you was a child you was always in high dudgeon about something or other. To my mind, it’s good to see you still have some of that fire in you.’
They had reached Grafton Street by this time and as they came to the steps of their house the maid took a deep breath and declared with the force of one who had been silent for too long, ‘I know it ain’t my place to say so, miss, but all those years looking after your sainted mama, and now running yourself ragged over Lord Kirkster, it’s about time you thought about yourself a bit more!’
Deborah stared at her maid and felt a sudden rush of affection for the woman who had looked after her since childhood.
‘How lucky I am to have such a friend as you, Elsie! Perhaps I shall have a little more time for myself, once this is all over.’
Impulsively she kissed Elsie’s cheek before running up the steps to the house, where the butler was holding open the door.
‘Ah, Enfield. Where is his lordship?’ Deborah paused in the hallway to strip off her gloves while Elsie carried her purchases up to her bedchamber.
‘Lord Kirkster had gone out, but he will be returning with Sir Sydney in time to take dinner.’ Enfield gave an obsequious little bow. ‘After which, his lordship informs me he has taken a box at the opera and hopes you will be able to join them.’
Deborah inclined her head and walked towards the stairs.
‘And what answer shall I give his lordship?’
Deborah stopped and turned, her brows raised.
‘I shall give Lord Kirkster my answer at dinner,’ she announced, in a voice designed to depress pretension.
She saw a flicker of anger cross the butler’s countenance and felt a momentary spurt of satisfaction. She was aware of how little power she had in this house, but Enfield could not challenge her outright. At least, not yet.
* * *
Randolph was in good spirits at dinner and accepted her decision not to accompany them to the opera with a good grace. Sir Sydney expressed his disappointment, but she was relieved that neither of them pressed her to go. She saw them off and returned to the drawing room to read her book, but after an hour, when she rang the bell, she was informed that the butler had gone out.
Deborah dismissed the footman and waited for a few moments before leaving the room. The hall was deserted and she paused at the bottom of the stairs to light one of the bedroom candles, listening and looking around her. When she was sure she was alone, she crossed the hall and slipped into Ran’s study. This was where Sir Sydney and her brother spent most of their time together and she was sure that if there was any clue to their activities, she would find it here.
She moved over to the desk and put down the candle. The top was remarkably tidy. There was the usual ink stand and pens and a small pile of visiting cards on the desk, plus the journal she had given Ran years ago, in the hope that it might amuse him to keep a diary. He had never used it, but had always kept it on his desk, as if to placate her.
She moved around and sat down at the desk, drumming her fingers on the polished wooden top. It was most likely that anything of importance would be in the drawers. She was not surprised to find the centre one was locked, but she dared not force it open so she moved on to the others. Despite having been in town for only a short time, they were crammed with bills, letters and invitations, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Deborah closed the final drawer and sat back. Somehow, she would have to persuade Ran to let her have the key to that locked drawer, but in the meantime, where else should she look? The room was lined with cupboards and bookcases, but most of the furniture had been hired with the house and she thought it unlikely that they would hold any secrets. However, to be sure she would have to go through them all, but not tonight. She was about to get up when her eyes fell on the journal again and she noticed a folded paper had been slipped between the pages. She drew the book towards her and opened it carefully. The paper was a letter, addressed to her brother. The seal had been broken so she spread the sheets, turning them towards the candle to read the contents. Almost immediately she knew she had every reason to meet Gil the next morning.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The circulating library was crowded. Gil browsed the shelves, avoiding the flirtatious glances of a dashing matron who was standing before the Gothic romances. He moved towards the religious tracts and histories, where he could keep watch upon the doorway, and took a book off the shelf at random. Would she come?
He knew he had angered Deborah yesterday, but she had looked so delightful with that blush upon her cheeks that he could no more prevent himself from teasing her than he could stop the sun from shining. Whatever she might say, she could not hide the fact that she still felt something for him, her responses at the concert proved as much. It could never come to anything, he knew that, but it was enough to know she did not hate him.
He spotted Deborah as soon as she walked in with her maid. She was dressed with quiet elegance in a dark green spencer over a gown of pale green cambric muslin. With a word to her maid to wait by the door, she approached him slowly and when she was close he nodded towards the dark green bonnet that covered her soft curls.
‘No veil, Miss Meltham?’
She did not look at him, but ran a finger along a row of books as if deciding which one to choose.
‘That would only draw more attention,’ she murmured, pulling out a slim volume and pretending to read. ‘You will note that no one else is concealing their face.’
‘That is very true.’
Her cool response filled him with tender admiration. He wanted to take her in his arms, but instead he moved around the corner, from where they could talk to one another without appearing to converse.
He was unable to resist saying quietly, ‘I take it you did not come here this morning merely for the pleasure of seeing me?’
He felt a tiny kick of satisfaction when his words brought the tell-tale colour to her cheeks.
‘No, of course not. I found something last night, in Ran’s desk.’ She kept her eyes on the open book. Anyone watching would think she was mouthing the words from the page. ‘It was a letter from the captain of the Margaret, advising my brother that he had set sail for London.’ For the first time, she betrayed agitation and her eyes flickered briefly upwards. ‘There was something else.’
‘Tell me.’ He was on the alert now, no longer tempted to tease her.
‘A bill of lading for three large pieces of furniture from the house in Duke Street. If…’ She ran her tongue nervously over her lips. ‘If they wanted to move a quantity of bank notes, storing them in the locked compartments of two sideboards and an Italian commode would be one solution.’
‘It would indeed.’
‘I dared not remove the papers, but I memorised them. The captain writes in his letter that he hopes to dock at Wapping early next week.’
‘Thank you, I will look into that.’
‘Perhaps I should ask Randolph about the furniture. I might be able to discover when he expects it to arrive.
‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘I would rather you did not. If Warslow thinks you suspect anything at all he could become dangerous.’
‘He is already dangerous.’ She spoke calmly, but as she replaced the book on the shelf Gil saw that her hand was not quite steady. ‘What you said yesterday, about carrying Ran away, abducting him. Is that true? Could you do it?’
‘It could be done, yes.’
‘I spent a great deal of ti
me thinking of it last night, after I found those papers. Randolph is clearly implicated in Sir Sydney’s plans and I do not see any other way to save him. I think Ran knows that, too. Perhaps I could take him to France, or Italy. Now the war is over we could be safe there.’
‘To live in exile.’ An icy hand clutched at Gil’s heart. ‘To leave everything you know. So far from all your friends.’
So far from me.
‘Randolph would be safe and that is what matters.’ She gave up all pretence of looking at books and turned towards him, her hands clasped before her. ‘I have read in the newspapers about a poor woman who was convicted of possessing just two counterfeit bank notes. She was transported. Transported! Ran could survive a sea crossing to France, I think, but not to the other side of the world. I am sure his valet and my maid will help me. They might also wish to come with us, because they are more like family than servants. So, so I think that would be the best solution, do not you?’
Gil stared at her. She would be lost to him for ever. He swallowed, forcing himself to admit it was for the best. The attraction between them was too strong to be denied and if she remained within reach he knew without a shadow of a doubt that sooner or later he would take her to his bed again. He had risked her reputation once but he must not do so again.
Tell the truth, man, an inner voice mocked him. Is it not also that you are afraid you will grow to love her and then risk the agony of losing her, as you lost Kitty and Robin? No wound received in battle has ever cut as deep as that.
‘I know I am asking you to help him escape the law,’ she said, misreading his hesitation. ‘If you feel you cannot help, then all I ask is that you do nothing to prevent me from spiriting Randolph away.’
He shook off his own selfish concerns to say quickly, ‘Of course I will help you. It will take me few days to arrange everything, but I will do it, trust me.’
‘I do.’ She tried to smile and it tore at his heart when it went awry. ‘I do trust you, my lord.’
More customers were crowding in and Gil shifted closer.
‘Continue your walks in Green Park. I will send you word once I have made arrangements to spirit you and your brother from the country.’
He was rewarded with a faint smile and a speaking look from those green eyes before she turned to go. She left the shop and Gil browsed along a few more shelves, resisting the temptation to follow her out of the door. After a judicious amount of time he made his way to the street and strode off towards Gilmorton House. There was much to be done.
* * *
The next few days tested Deborah’s nerves to the limit. She avoided Sir Sydney’s advances and did her best to prepare Randolph by telling him an aunt was sending her a parcel of dress fabric and she depended upon him to go with her to collect it from the carrier. Her brother was patently uninterested, but agreed to accompany her when the time came, and with that she had to be satisfied.
As she had hoped, when she mentioned her plans to Elsie and Joseph Miller they were both determined to accompany them, even though Deborah made it plain that there would be little money to spare for wages. Deborah could not deny she was relieved by their loyalty, for she was more than a little daunted by the prospect of travelling alone with her brother to a foreign land, but she had no doubt that once out of danger and away from Sir Sydney’s pernicious influence, Randolph would make some sort of recovery.
* * *
It was on the third morning, when she was making her usual circuit of Green Park, that she spotted the Viscount. An early shower of rain had reduced the number of people strolling in the park and it was easy to pick out his tall figure as he approached, walking with his usual firm stride. She immediately turned off the main path to stroll amongst the trees. She heard his brisk, familiar tread approaching and did not turn as he caught up with her.
‘It is all arranged for tomorrow,’ he said without preamble. ‘There will be a carriage waiting for you at the White Horse in Piccadilly at ten in the morning. Can you have your brother there?’
‘Yes, if I have to carry him,’ she said vehemently. ‘Sir Sydney has gone back to his own lodgings for the past few nights and I hope he will do the same tonight, because Ran is always better when he is not there. Miller and my maid are to accompany us out of the country. It is already agreed that they will leave the house before us, ostensibly with bags of clothes for the poor, but in fact that will be our luggage. Whatever we can pack in them must suffice until we can buy more.’
They were strolling along side by side. She thought suddenly that to a casual observer they could be discussing something as innocuous as the weather.
‘And have you thought how you will live?’ he asked her.
‘Yes. I know Ran will not have an opportunity to make arrangements before we leave, so we are unlikely to be able to use what is left of his fortune. But I have my pin money for this quarter, which is untouched, and I asked my brother to draw some funds for me, which he has done. He thinks I need to pay my dressmaker.’
She fell silent, trying to block out her worries for the future.
‘Perhaps we should go to Brussels,’ she said. ‘I understand one can live there for very little.’
‘Not that little,’ he growled.
‘Well, we shall see. I am not sure if Ran will ever be able to call upon his bank once we are abroad, but I have some jewellery that Mama left me, which I will sell if I have to, and when that is gone, I can always look for work. I might perhaps teach English.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘As a teacher you would earn barely enough to keep yourself, let alone your brother.’
She was aware of that and it frightened her, but she was not prepared to admit it to Gil.
She said stubbornly, ‘We shall manage.’
He stopped and caught her arm, obliging her to face him.
‘Deborah, if you need funds you must write to me. I want you to give me your word on that.’
She tore herself from his grip, panicked by the way his touch brought back all the memories. The aching need…
‘You owe me nothing, Lord Gilmorton,’ she flashed.
‘I am not doing this through any sense of obligation,’ he exclaimed as she tore herself from his grasp. ‘I love you!’
Deb stared at him. Gil’s face was white and he looked stricken, even more shocked than she was at his outburst. She swallowed.
‘You, you do not mean that.’
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I cannot bear to think of you living in poverty.’
Deborah felt the colour drain from her face. He had not denied it, yet it could not be true. He must be teasing her again, but when she looked at him there was no hint of a smile in his eyes. Instead she could see only pain and truth and torment.
He recollected himself and tried to smile. ‘I beg your pardon. You have made your feelings very plain and I realise a declaration is the very last thing you wish to hear from me. Pray try to forget I said it. My man will be waiting at the White Horse in the morning, he will have with him everything you need for your journey, travel papers, letters of introduction and money—not a great sum, but you will need it, if you are to travel in any degree of comfort.’
She was too stunned, too shaken to think clearly and barely heard his words. Love. How could he love her? When he reached for her hand she did not pull away and he carried her gloved fingers to his lips.
‘This is the last time we shall meet. I wish you a good journey, Deborah. God bless you.’
She watched his dark head dip over her hand, felt the pressure as he squeezed her fingers, then he was gone, striding away from her. For ever.
* * *
Deborah walked back to Grafton Street like an automaton. All she could hear was Gil’s voice, saying he loved her. All she could see were his eyes, near bla
ck and tortured. It could not be true. It must not be true. There was a time when her greatest desire had been for him to say those words, but not now. She would never see Gil again and she had resigned herself to that, but she could not bear the thought that he, too, might suffer from their parting.
‘Of course it is not true,’ she told herself, as she approached the steps of the house. ‘If it were so, why would he tell me to forget it? It was a mistake, an, an aberration, caused by the heat of the moment. He had been at pains to show his indifference, from the moment I asked for his help. Whatever he may say, whatever I may wish, Lord Gilmorton sees me as an obligation, nothing more.’
And fighting back a sudden desire to weep, Deb straightened her shoulders and entered the house.
* * *
Randolph was in the dining room, alone. He was looking very pale and hollow-eyed, and when she came in he gave her a baleful look.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded pettishly. ‘I make the effort to come down for breakfast and you are not here.’
‘Certainly not at this hour,’ she said with a cheerfulness she was far from feeling. ‘It is nearly noon. But I am here now and I shall sit down and take a cup of coffee with you.’ She waited until the footman had set a fresh cup before her, then smiled at her brother. ‘What are your plans for today?’
‘I have no idea,’ he snapped. ‘Warslow is gone off somewhere and I—’ He broke off and rubbed one hand over his white face. ‘I beg your pardon, Deb. I feel hellish, but I should not take it out on you.’
She could not help a little spurt of irritation.
‘Perhaps you would feel better if you did not drink so heavily of an evening. And as for the laudanum, I cannot believe it is doing you any good.’
Ran’s fork clattered on to his plate and he exclaimed wrathfully, ‘Hell and confound it, do not preach at me! I know perfectly well what I should do! Drinking helps me get through the evening and the laudanum—it helps me forget…’ He put his elbows on the table and dropped his head in his hands. ‘You should leave me, Deb. You can do no good here. Go back to Fallbridge, anywhere, but get out of London.’
Winning the Mail-order Bride & Pursued for the Viscount's Vengeance & Redeeming the Rogue Knight (9781488021725) Page 41